


Small Mercies

by Aeriel



Category: Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler
Genre: F/M, Gen, Past Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-17
Updated: 2009-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna is not sure what she expects afterward. Maybe nothing. Having no expectations is surprisingly relieving- like stepping into a world only half-remembered after being locked away in a jail cell for fifteen years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Mercies

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting old fic from LJ. Written for theme when you leave, it will be hard again

Johanna is not sure what she expects afterward. Maybe nothing. Having no expectations is surprisingly relieving- like stepping into a world only half-remembered after being locked away in a jail cell for fifteen years.  
  
It isn't as if she expects something bad to happen, but she would be no more surprised than if something good did. For now, she is content to sit back and let the present envelop her. Simply having, owning a different present, is delightfully new and fresh- the way Anthony seems to feel every time he steps on deck and breaths the morning air.  
  
Johanna thinks it quite funny the way he will sometimes lean over the railing to feel the sea spray in his hair- like a little boy, still excited although he must have felt it a thousand times.  
  
She laughs once, even. She can't remember the last time she really laughed, really honestly laughed.  
  
She does not think she wants to. Johanna is dead set on moving forward- there is nothing in her past worth recalling.  
  
Later, she will be asked why she married a boy she barely knew so quickly- the time between their meeting and their leaving London together is greatly abridged when they tell the story because Johanna doesn't want to talk about what happened in between. Anthony would say, true love. But Anthony will never be in the room when they ask, and she won't quite understand why. She won't know how to answer, either, because it will only be strange women she barely knows who ask, leaning forward in their chair as if hoping the closer their faces are, the faster she will reply.  
  
The truth is, after the first night alone on the sea in a strange room where shadows grow by the hour, Johanna knows she cannot be alone any more.  
  
As scared as she is of the marital duties she has only a fuzzy notion of, the unknown has never terrified Johanna quite like the known. And another night alone with memories of touches that went on just a fraction too long and looks that were not quite fatherly- another night of faceless screaming, shrill giggles and a name that she is sure shall never erase itself from her mind- might break her to pieces.  
  
Johanna begs Anthony to have them married on the ship. He is mildly confused at first, but he knows things have changed since he left her in the barber's shop.  
  
After all, he saw the bodies too.  
  
Anthony does not ask questions of her that she cannot answer. She even thinks that if she asked, Anthony would have only slept by her side their wedding night. But Johanna knows if she puts him off the first night, they may never actually consummate their marriage. And then she would be a failure.  
  
She will not fail Anthony. They would want her to.  
  
Afterwards, she cries. She hates herself for it, for showing weakness in front of the only living person whose respect she ever sought. And yet, he's the only one she could possibly show weakness to. Anthony is startled at first, but he moves gently towards her, running his fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He is careful when he touches her from then on- but not so careful that she feels unattractive or unwanted.  
  
He hums a song, cradling her in his arms as her tears dry. Johanna drifts into the first easy sleep she's had in what feels like an eternity of horrors.  
  
She almost wishes the voyage had taken longer. Anthony did not have endless time devoted to her only, of course, but the other sailors rarely bother her. And they don't ask why she prefers to wear sailor's clothes like them, or why she covers her hair with a cap until she is alone with Anthony at night.  
  
She is even able to find pleasure in marital duties, after the first time. It is strange, but not unpleasant- not with Anthony.  
  
But then the ship is docking, and Johanna realizes it is time to face a new unknown- one which may not be as forgiving. For the first time since the madhouse, she finds herself pulling on petticoats again and lacing up her bodice.  
  
She packs away the sailor's clothes she was so comfortable in, and replaces the cap with a wicker bonnet. Sitting on their bed, her clothes suddenly feeling too heavy, Johanna wonders when she can buy herself new clothes- clothes that don't make her feel dirty.  
  
The ribbon is tight under her chin, and her hands feel stiff and unnatural in gloves, but she blinks away the tears and waits for Anthony to come in and tell her that it's time.  
  
When they disembark, Anthony is clutching her hand very tightly, and she realizes he is afraid too. She wonders why.  
  
Anthony, her husband. There is so much about him she has yet to learn.  
  
She twines her arm around his as they walk down Union Street, hoping it is a proper thing to do.  
  
"My mother's house isn't nearly as nice as these, you know," he babbles.  
  
"Why should that matter?"  
  
Anthony looks as though he wants to reply, but quickly turns away, making some asinine comment about the weather in Plymouth.  
  
She may not have known him very long, but she can certainly tell when he's avoiding a subject.  
  
It's almost the end of town, and Johanna's legs are getting wobbly when they arrive at the Hope home. It is shabbier than she imagined, and privately she's glad Anthony warned her.  
  
The door is opened by a scowling woman who doesn't look anything like Anthony, followed by a screaming toddler. Her expression only lightens a touch when she recognizes him.  
  
"Oh, it's you." She squints at Johanna. "Lord, boy, you brought back a-"  
  
"This is my wife," Anthony interrupts, pulling her close. "Johanna."  
  
The face of the woman who she can only assume is Anthony's mother goes through a multitude of imperceptibly tiny changes in an instant.  
  
"I'm not surprised," she says finally, giving no indication of whether this is good or bad news. "You might as well come in, your brothers and sisters miss you."  
  
Johanna doesn't know how to behave around children. She barely knows how to act around other people, but children particularly make her uncomfortable- infants and toddlers excepted, since they remind her of clumsy animals.  
  
Anthony appears to have no such restraint. Two little girls and an older boy run up to him, and there are hugs and exclamations, and she feels like a shadow.  
  
Later, he assures her that they liked her. "And my mother..."  
  
From the way he hesitates, she isn't certain she wants to know.  
  
Fortunately, there is no question of their living with Mrs. Hope and the children. After their initial visit, Anthony whisks her off to a hotel which, despite being cramped and somewhat seedy, makes her feel far more comfortable.  
  
Johanna begins to suspect that they might not have a permanent residence for some time, if at all. While her husband goes out to attend to some business she doesn't quite understand regarding the captain of the Bountiful, she hunches awkwardly over penny-dreadfuls in the parlor, hoping to ward off potential busybodies, and only partially succeeding.  
  
She knows, of course, that Anthony will have to go sailing again soon to make a living. She also knows that she cannot always accompany him.  
  
She will have to come out from behind the paper and attempt to make civilised conversation sooner or later.  
  
But not yet, perhaps. Anthony should return in an hour.  
 


End file.
